


Stalker by D. J. Orlovský

by bedrníka (pimpinella)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Severus Snape, M/M, PWP, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-07
Updated: 2007-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:21:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25923511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pimpinella/pseuds/bedrn%C3%ADka
Summary: Argus Filch is called a stalker by the students because when he catches them shagging he doesn’t make his presence known and waits instead until they notice him on their own. Argus Filch’s difference from the rest of the Hogwarts population however doesn’t lie just in the fact that he is a squib, thus no one has any idea that not one pair of students has yet aroused him. But that is about to change... or what occurred behind the troubles with Fluffy and the Philosopher’s Stone.
Relationships: Argus Filch/Severus Snape, Snape/random male student (not explicit)
Kudos: 11





	Stalker by D. J. Orlovský

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Šmírák](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/667516) by D. J. Orlovský. 



> Many thanks to Incunabulist for making my translation much better and many thanks to D. J. who wrote this fic for me.

"And Filch, don't forget that Mr McCartny is serving his detention tomorrow." 

Argus Filch halfway turned around at the door. 

"But of course, Professor," he murmured with utmost servility. 

"I don't want to see the dolt before noon," Severus Snape snarled without looking up from the tests he was marking. 

"You can count on me, Professor." Filch promised in an attempt to ingratiate himself. 

The Potions master had begun this school year pretty sharply. Usually he wouldn't assign detentions for Saturday mornings, which would often spread late into the evening, before the end of October. And today was September 21. Yes, he had started unusually early. It defnitiely had something to do with the Potter boy. Filch had indeed noticed that the Potions master practically couldn't stand him. 

"Good night," Filch wished him before he closed the door to the office. 

Snape, as usual, made no reply. Perhaps he was too absorbed in his work, perhaps Filch was far too insignificant, or perhaps Snape disliked wishing anyone anything. Filch hoped it was the first case. 

*** 

The unfortunate troll incident added further to his workload. Naturally, the teachers didn't bother returning the bathroom to its original state. After all, they had him for such a menial job. The only one who had showed the least bit of interest, albeit lukewarm, had been Snape. Without his cleaning potions and a constant supply of reprehensible students Filch would wear himself out. 

Lately, he had given it a lot of thought. The Potions master and he had a lot in common, they shared opinions on many things. You couldn't call them friends. Snape wasn't friends with anyone. You could, however, call them kindred spirits. 

The fact that Snape had trusted him with his injury only reinforced that notion. 

Snape sat down in an armchair and held his robes above his knees. His right leg was bloody and mangled. 

"That looks pretty bad," remarked Filch, opening a ready-to-use medicine box which was in the staff room. 

"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?" 

Filch handed him bandages but Snape didn't take them, for he had noticed Potter standing in the doorway. His face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. 

"POTTER!" Snape hissed presently resembling an irritated rattle-snake. 

Filch, as a more or less independent observer, had to give it to the boy for courage. Or perhaps he was that stupid. One way or another, he managed to speak. 

"I just wondered if I could have my book back." 

"GET OUT! OUT!" Snape barked. 

Even though the snotty boy had to be a bit thick to ask such a question, judging by the speed with which he disappeared, he had in the very least developed some instinct of self-preservation. 

"Hagrid and his menagerie, Dumbledore and Potter – this is not a school, this is a zoo!" Snape snarled irritably. 

Filch nodded his agreement. Of course, he would probably agree with Snape on anything simply because he was Snape. 

*** 

Filch was on his way down a corridor. He couldn't sleep and so he went on his regular round through the school. Mrs Norris silently trotted beside him. If they were lucky, they'd catch a student. 

Mrs Norris stopped and then lifted her bulging eyes to him, attracting his attention with a sharp meow. 

"What is it, dear? What have you heard?" Filch asked his cat. 

Mrs Norris meowed once more and ran down the corridor. Filch followed her without hesitation. 

She stopped in front of a door to an old classroom and leaned on them with her paws. Breathless, Filch caught up with her just as she carefully sniffed at the door. He wanted to catch his breath before throwing the door open. However, Mrs Norris suddenly paused, then swiftly turned and dashed off. Filch merely looked after her, perplexed. He knew his cat was exceptionally intelligent. It often paid to take her advice. Therefore it would be prudent to turn around and go the other way. But today curiosity prevailed over good sense. Mrs Norris wouldn't have led him here had she not smelt a student. On the other hand, something had made her flee. 

Filch very cautiously seized the handle and pushed experimentally. It moved with surprising ease. As if someone had oiled it not so long ago. He opened the door a crack and it didn't squeak at all. Yes, there was no doubt someone had made sure that opening or closing the door wouldn't give them away. He peered into the room. It seemed to be empty at first but then he saw them. Actually, he heard them first – heavy breathing broken here and there by moans. The filthy little students were screwing in here like animals and were emitting their disgusting noises. 

Filch entered quietly and remained standing by the door. He always waited silently for them to notice him. Usually they didn't even realize his presence until they had mingled their nasty little secretions. He loved the expressions on their faces when they spotted him. He didn't get any perverted sexual satisfaction from this. He hadn't yet found a couple that would arouse him. He simply enjoyed making their lives miserable and reveled in their humiliation. What did it matter that they'd taken to calling him stalker when they thought he couldn't hear them? He had never been interested in the opinions of the wizarding fry. He hated them for their talent and he hated them because they were... normal – in more ways than one. 

The classroom was dark but he could still see the movement at the far end on the teacher's desk - that was the source of the sounds. Had one of the little fuckers looked in his direction, they could have seen him very well thanks to the light in the corridor. But they were too busy exchanging their genetic information. 

"Oh... god... I... I'm..." 

They were repulsive. He was sickened by them. 

"God...!" 

Filch was quite glad he'd arrived just in time. He didn't fancy having to wait for them to get through the whole comedy. 

"...Professor." 

Filch froze. His first thought was that he probably ought to report it. Sexual intercourse between Professors and students were forbidden. Than he realized that the voice which had called its partner a Professor was beyond all doubt male. Despite the nature of his thoughts, he found himself aroused. Fortunately, he retained enough presence of mind to hide amidst old desks piled up haphazardly over one another. 

He heard approaching footsteps which stopped near his hiding place. There was a rustle of cloth. 

"Now get lost," hissed a male voice which Filch knew so well. 

"And my mark from Po-," the boy dared to utter. 

Filch was afraid to even breathe, fearing it could give him away. So this was how Slytherin students improved their marks from Potions. He would never have thought that Severus Snape... that it would be him... that he would... 

"We shall discuss that tomorrow," the Potions master said, dismissing the boy. 

The boy nodded and ran out the open door, disappearing behind the first turn in the corridor. 

Snape, however, was in no hurry to leave the classroom. Filch, pressed into dusty, precariously swinging desks cursed him silently. 

"Did you like it, Filch?" said Snape lazily without looking in his direction. 

Filch's blood froze cold in his veins. He knew! He knew Filch saw them! 

"Enough of this game. Come out of there," Snape snarled. 

Filch climbed out from his hiding place. Snape was looking at him with those black, cold eyes of his. 

"Do you spy on me often?" Snape asked, and even though outwardly he appeared calm, almost bored, there was a threat in his voice. 

"No!" Filch blurted out. 

"And whom do you intend to tell about it, Filch?" continued Snape in his interrogation. 

"No one! Really no one!" Filch stuttered. "Who would I tell?" 

Snape smiled ominously. Filch wasn't sure whether the Professor was satisfied with his answer; this man looked like someone who didn't like leaving witnesses. His past was quite peculiar and there were gaps in it. 

"Did you like it, Filch?" Snape repeated his question but this time there was something captivating in his voice. 

"Was it arousing?" continued Snape in that dangerously seductive voice. 

Filch gulped. He had dreamed about the Potions master for years, but always regarded him as something unreachable. The realization that Snape was within his reach was incredible. 

Snape stepped so close they were almost touching. The piercing look of his eyes, as black as his soul, forced Filch to cast his eyes down. Then Snape reached roughly between his legs. Long, slim fingers grasped Filch's cock and skillfully teased him through the cloth. Filch's breath caught in his throat. 

Snape felt over Filch's hardening cock like a horse-couper inspecting the goods. There was something perverse, vulgar in it and, strangely enough, arousing. Filch couldn't even move; he completely surrendered to the Potions master and felt arousal spreading through his veins like poison. 

Snape raised one eyebrow and pulled his hand away from Filch's crotch. 

"Who would have thought, Filch," Snape said with a smirk. 

Filch felt he was growing red. 

"My quarters... in an hour," Snape said curtly and left the classroom. 

Filch stood there, astounded, and it slowly dawned on him that it hadn't been a request but an order. 

Severus Snape didn't have quarters in the teachers' wing like all the other Professors. No, he was a loner, and so he'd turned a room adjacent to his office into his living space. 

Snape was sitting behind his table, clad in a white shirt and black trousers. He didn't even look up when Filch entered. His footsteps were muffled by the thick dark green carpet. 

The room was cramped. It wasn't originally designed for living, but it was apparent that this fact didn't concern Snape in the least. Most of the space was occupied by a large ebony table littered with parchments, bottles and other things. The walls were lined with ceiling-high bookcases made of dark wood and literally overstuffed with books bound in black leather. It was a small miracle that a wardrobe could squeeze in, which undoubtedly held Snape's clothes. That didn't leave enough room for a bed, and therefore there was an alcove in the wall, some three feet above the floor, which Snape had turned into a rather large and comfortable-looking cot. 

Filch felt somewhat uncomfortable. He had used the hour to shower, even perfume himself, although he wasn't sure if it was wise, and put on his best underwear. Now he was sure, though, that Snape didn't care about such things. If he came here stark naked he would probably please Snape more. 

Snape slowly laid down his quill and pinned him with his with his dark eyes. He got up without hurry and began unbuttoning his shirt. Filch averted his gaze and began undressing in silence. Well, what did he expect? Kisses? Caresses? He remembered a joke he had once overheard students telling each other, that Snape surely was celibate because he was as cold as ice, and if he tried sticking it into some poor girl, she'd freeze to death. 

Filch wished that Snape would turn off the light. He was all too aware that he wasn't young anymore. But Snape was clearly not about to do that. He undid the last button and pulled the shirt out from his trousers; he didn't take it off, though. With interest, Filch surreptitiously perused his body. You could hardly say Snape was anywhere near attractive, which comforted Filch a little. He was thin, sinewy, and ribs showed beneath pale, scar-covered skin, but the firmness of his muscles suggested that he didn't spend all of his time over cauldrons. 

Snape stripped off his trousers and Filch merely gulped when it turned out that the Potions master had on no underwear. From unruly bush of dark hair jutted out nice big cock, but, to Filch's poorly hidden amazement, circumcised. Snape had to notice his expression but he didn't react in any way. 

Filch stripped completely and felt, under Snape's gaze, more than ever like a horse on market. Snape eyed him with a hungry look. He was taking his time. He circled him slowly, touched him fleetingly a few times and then shamelessly inspected his extraordinary huge cock. The smile which appeared on Snape's face wasn't nice at all. Filch noticed that it aroused Snape to look at him. His cock stood proud and erect. He expected that they would now go to the bed, but Snape went over to his table, leaned on it with his hands and waited. It took Filch a moment before the silent invitation registered. He nervously licked his lips. 

"And... lubricant?" he uttered, unsure. 

Snape turned over his bony shoulder and looked at him through a curtain of black hair with utmost contempt. 

Filch gave up questions. He stepped to Snape and touched his back. He found it funny that it surprised him that Snape's skin was warm and surprisingly soft. As though he he'd subconsciously truly expected he was going to touch an iceberg. Snape spread his legs and bowed his head. Filch could clearly see the vertebrae and shoulder-blades jutting out. He could count them with one look. He slid his hand over sunken hips and wondered how could anyone be this terribly thin. With his finger he followed one of the large scars which gave the impression that they recorded all its past on this body. Touching Snape was exciting, but Snape finally shied away from his touch. Filch had taken it for impatience. No, Snape was not interested in caress, he wanted sex – no more, no less. 

He pressed to Snape and closed Snape's erect cock in his palm. His hand slid over its length, and the head was surprisingly dry and rough. He could feel Snape shiver and then Snape grasped his wrist, which prevented him from continuing. Filch wasn't daft and it dawned on him that it couldn't be pleasant for Snape with no lube. He hadn't realized that right away. If only Snape hadn't rejected lubrication so contemptuously... he withdrew his hand and slid his fingers between Snape's arsecheeks. Snape arched his back, which Filch took to mean that Snape liked it. Because otherwise the Potions master didn't make a sound. 

Filch slid his palm over his own erection which was, unlike Snape's, wet with desire. He didn't want to try the Professor's patience and pressed the head of his cock to the entrance into Snape's body. He was a bit apprehensive but if that was what Snape wanted... he began to penetrate him. He could feel how Snape tried to relax his muscles to make it easier, but it was clear to Filch that it wouldn't be enough at all. It burned like hell. Snape alternated between lifting and throwing back his head and bowing it. Filch could have sworn he heard him grating his teeth and he could see the tension in his shoulders. It had to hurt him a lot. Perhaps he had overestimated himself. Nevertheless, Filch moved deeper bit by bit until he was completely sheathed. He waited a moment for the muscles of Snape's anus to adjust and for the pain to abate a little. Snape was breathing hard, but that was all - not a single hint that he was in pain escaped his mouth. Filch had never met with such self-control. He moved inside Snape, than he moved some more and heard Snape's first quiet moan. He took it as an assent to resume. He gripped Snape's bony shoulder with one hand and his hip with the other to help keep his balance, and begun thrusting. Each time he withdrew almost completely and then slowly thrust back in. Snape met his thrusts expertly. It was apparent that it wasn't the first time he did this. And every time Filch penetrated him to the hilt Snape would hiss softly. 

He gradually sped up the pace. Snape didn't say anything but Filch gathered from the moans that were getting louder that he liked it hard. He obliged him. Luckily, the table was heavy or it would have slid forward with the force of his thrusts. But Snape was clearly satisfied and as he was nearing orgasm his moans grew louder still. Filch found Snape's cock and closed it in his hand. Most of his previous partners wilted during anal intercourse, but Snape didn't. He was hot, hard as rock and pulsing in his hand. Filch tried not to pull at him but Snape thrust in his hand on his own. Then he heard something topple on the table and Snape pressed a tube into his hand. Filch squeezed it without hesitation and his palm filled with thick cool gel. He dropped the tube to the floor and took hold of Snape's cock again but this time he fisted him properly in time with his thrusts. Snape growled almost like an animal and dug his fingers into the table until his nails squeaked on the lacquered surface. 

Filch moaned, thrusted hard one more time, as deep as he could, and came. Snape arched his back, but he wasn't done yet, and so Filch sped the movement of his hand on his cock. Snape groaned blissfully and white come spattered in several bursts onto the table and carpet. 

It took them both some time to catch their breath. Snape, head bowed, watched the product of his satisfaction slowly dripping down the black wood. 

Filch carefully pulled out his softening cock. Before Snape straightened up Filch glimpsed his come slowly running out from Snape's arse. It was a strange, arousing sight. 

Snape went to one of his bookcases without a word, pulled at a bright green book and a hidden entrance opened. Snape disappeared around corner and the sound of running water told Filch that there was a bathroom. He wasn't sure what to do now, though. Leave? Stay? He decided to wait for now. 

Snape didn’t stay in the bathroom long. When he returned he went to Filch in silence and looked him in the eye. 

"This," he said in a low voice, "will remain just between the two of us." 

Filch nodded. 

"Continue with your spying if that's what you like, but if you so much as allude to it, I'll make sure you'll be sorry." 

Filch believed him. Snape wasn't the type to make empty threats. 

"You can trust me," he assured him, even though something told him that Snape wasn't expecting an answer. 

Snape pulled out a bottle of whiskey from a hidden box and poured himself some. He didn't offer Filch anything. With a tumbler in hand he sprawled on the bed in quite a provocative pose. 

"Next week," he told Filch as if by the way. "Same time, same day." 

Filch understood he was being dismissed. He put on his clothes and left without saying goodbye. He had mixed feelings. Severus Snape had only used him, just like he would use his students to satisfy his needs. He was, however, sure of one thing: to fuck Severus Snape was going to be only his privilege. 

\- end - 


End file.
